And Now What
by Arime Setta
Summary: After the war, Hermione and George struggle with the hardest question of all: "And now what?" Running into Fred's ghost on her first day back, Hermione promises to help George, and hopefully Fred, move on. Post-DH, EWE, HG/GW.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The walls crumbled around him but he held up the heavy slab as if he were a superhero. He dragged his brother from the ruins and prayed with all of his heart. Just as his brother's eyes began to flutter, George Weasley woke with a start.

"uhhhh. Again." George moaned and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, hoping to erase the dream from his memory. As he threw the covers off, he muttered, "This is almost worse than dreaming what really happened."

But was it really? George dreamt of rescuing his brother every night since the battle – of being there in time to catch the wall, to pull him to safety. One year of devastating dreams - of seeing his brother almost come back to life. It was no wonder that George always looked a little grey and ragged. And today, on the day of the one-year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, George looked especially worn out.

Emerging from his bed, George slowly began his morning routine. Shower, shave, brush his teeth, get dressed. Get back in bed.

He had collected an unreasonably large number of pajamas over the past year. In stripes, polka dots, fuzzy bunnies, rainbows, and all. He had a set that reenacted the losing snitch catch of the Quidditch Cup before his sixth year. He had a set that brewed potions and would occasional explode lint whenever he moved at a crucial stage in brewing. He even had a set that his mum gave him that were chanted to sing him lullabies when it was dark out and shout for him to get up when it was light-out. To say the least, George never wore those, but he appreciated the gesture.

For a year, George participated in half of his life. Either he would get up and complete the normal hygiene necessities but spend the entire day in bed, or he would stay awake for an entire day in order to do all of his chores and run all of his errands. He would shop, cook, clean, pay his bills, reset his wards, write letters, answer inquiries from former customers or reporters and visit him family.

It might seem like this is fairly normal- or at least not unusual. After all, many people don't shower every day and occasionally spend an entire day in bed or don't sleep for twenty-four hours straight. His family, even, didn't seem to notice he was always fairly unwashed when he visited. They were too distracted being glad he made it to Sunday dinner. But George knew. He could feel it. He never seemed to do everything in one day.

He never woke up and showered and _then_ went out into the world. He never managed to get through the basic chores of life before falling into a restful sleep at an appropriate hour. It was as if he could only do one half at a time. It was as if his other half was gone.


	2. Catching up with an old friend

Chapter 1

There was one person who noticed George's half-life. His brother, Fred.

Fred floated around George's apartment, trying to knock things over or write on fogged mirrors. He tried to scream and shout and make the lights flicker in and out. He tried to tell George he was still there, that he was watching and wanted to help. Unfortunately, however, Fred was an invisible ghost.

Of all of the magical ailments, ghosthood may be the most frustrating. Unlike boils or pox, ghosthood is a total lack of sensation. There are no pains or cramps or burns. There is nothing but awareness. Although there are books and reports and Department of Mysteries' projects on ghosthood, it is still unclear why some people die and become ghosts. The common theory is that ghosts are persons with unfinished business. They're wrong of course. Everyone has unfinished business. How could you ever say you were truly done with life?

Fred didn't know this, of course. He couldn't read the newer, more controversial papers on the topic. Reading, after all, required flipping pages and, as of his one-year-deathiversary, Fred could only manage a light chill, not even an actual breeze.

The one ability Fred had managed was apparition. After he died, he spent some time following his family around (hiding behind things to avoid being seen), visiting his grave, even attending his own funeral. It was hearing his families final goodbyes that convinced him he need to stay out of sight. He wanted to let them grieve and move on. That was the responsible thing to do, and George knew that sometimes, rarely of course, you have to be responsible.

So he took the chance to travel. He though avoiding his family and friends would be easier if he simply left. He hoped that 'living' his life might help him move on to the beyond. That if he did the things he always wished he could, he might find his unfinished business.

Knowing that he had a loving family and wonderful friends, he thought, "Maybe I need to see the world. Go out beyond Hogwarts and Diagon Alley. Go see things I've always want to visit. If I stick to muggle sites, I won't risk being seen by a witch or wizard who might recognize me." He was right, of course, that if he stayed among muggles, he wouldn't be caught. He didn't know yet that his efforts were pointless. He couldn't be seen regardless of whether he wanted to or not.

It wasn't until Fred had visited dozens of his favorite places in Europe before he realized he had reached the limits of his tethering. While touring the streets of Venice, Fred suddenly hit a wall and could not go further. Feeling along the barrier, Fred realized it curved like the circumference of a circle. He was apparently stuck within a so-many-mile radius of his body.

"Well, didn't expect to be able to go absolutely anywhere, I guess. Makes sense why none of the Hogwarts ghosts are Chinese or Brazilian. Hmm.. though they could have traveled before dying and then be buried in Scotland..." Fred continued musing on the limitations of ghosthood on his way back to England. And then it hit him. Maybe he was supposed to go back to school.

"This plan will be a little more tricky. How do I sneak back in for classes without being seen." It wasn't until the first day back at Hogwarts that Fred realized the very lonely truth. No one could see him, not even his fellow ghosts.


	3. Watching from afar

Chapter 2

Sneaking from corridor to corridor, hoping to avoid running into any of the handful of returning students, Fred arrived at Hogwarts on the same day that the school reopened. He couldn't believe his luck. He would be able to start his seventh year all over from the beginning. Sure, he couldn't actually practice the magic, but at least he'd be able to listen in on the lectures and maybe pick a few new ideas up.

Musing over his plan, Fred failed to see Headmistress McGonagall coming is way until she passed straight through him.

"Wait, what, huh! Blimey, she couldn't see me. Does that mean..." Immediately, Fred popped over to a group of first years and shouted, "Hi Firsties!" But there was no reaction. Fred was truly invisible. He spent the next few days trying to talk to anyone. He sought out all of the House ghosts, every professor that ever taught him, the handful of returning seventh years that he knew. Nothing.

"If they can't see me, does that mean George or Ron or Mum can't see me either?" Afraid to take the chance, Fred mope around the castle for a few more months trying to stick to his plan. He was disappointed to see that no Weasleys returned to finish up their education. He expected Hermione at least would have come back.

What he didn't know was that everyone was doing exactly the same thing he was. Trying to find themselves in a post-war world.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry, Hermione, and Ron felt like the world had been lifted from their shoulders. They felt like they could finally breathe. The question hovered in everyone's minds though. "Now what?"

Harry and Ron took some time to sleep, eat real food, play quidditch and generally lazy-about until Kingsley showed up at the Burrow around the same time Fred began his seventh year, again.

"Minister Kingsley, welcome. Can I get you anything, my dear? Arthur is still at work, but should be home for the day soon. The boys and Ginny are flying around here somewhere." Mrs. Weasley promptly greeted the Minister as he exited the sooty fireplace. She immediately gathered a teapot and set it on boil while laying out some freshly baked rock cakes (significantly less 'rocky' than poor Hagrid's attempts).

"Mrs. Weasley, it's a pleasure. Actually can you see if you can find Harry and Ron. I have a few questions for them." Kingsley looked a little haggard. It was clear that his new job was more work than one man could handle. He had slowly put together his cabinet and had begun the rebuilding process after the war, but things were not going as smoothly as he had hoped.

"Harry! Ron! Minister Shaklebolt is here to see you! Come down from there is instance!" Mrs. Weasley's shrill cries zoomed through the air around the Burrow and eventually hit Ron and Harry with the full-force of a mother. They appeared as little dots in the sky at first, but they rapidly grew larger until they were directly in front of Ron's mother.

"Yes, mum, of course. We're here. Do'ya know why he's here?" Ron asked as he stashed his broom on the porch. He grabbed a cake from the tray and walked in to the living room with his mouth and hands full. After an awkward, crumbly greeting, the Minister asked both boys to sit down with him.

"Ron, Harry, my boys, it's good to see you. I hope you've both had a chance to relax and recover a bit after the Battle. I'm here, you see, to discuss a bit of trouble we're having. We need some help catching the handful of death eaters that escaped after Voldemort's death..."

After a lengthy debate with Mrs. Weasley and a series of pots of tea, Harry and Ron shook hands with the Minister. It had taken hours of planning and begging, but Harry and Ron would begin looking for Death Eaters the following Monday. They were going to help the Ministry finally end the war.

Ginny, still flying high above their heads, chasing snitches and beating back bludgers, was unaware of the going-ons below her. When she finally called it a day, she wearily put away the quidditch set and went in to get ready for dinner. The fight that followed outdid any shouting matches the Burrow has ever seen. And that's saying something.

When it was all settled, Ginny had punched Ron in the arm, kissed Harry nearly senseless and had made her mother cry. She refused to return to Hogwarts as a student like her mother wished. She was immensely proud of her brother and boyfriend, but had no interest in being an Auror. She had enough chasing after and being chased by murders. But that didn't mean she didn't have a plan.

"Now that you two have figured yourselves out, I guess I had better tell you about the letter I received a few days ago. Headmistress McGonagall offered to let me return to Hogwarts, (Mrs. Weasley immediate squealed in delight), but I've decided I do not want to go back and repeat my sixth year (the squeal ended and turned immediately to the sound Mrs. Weasley makes right before a fight). Mum, wait. I owled her back and asked if we could begin some kind of apprenticeship program for the former sixth and seventh years, instead. I figure the fifth years and younger really need to finish their studies before they can move on, but the sixth and seventh years fought enough and learned enough in the war to try something a little different."

Harry smiled down at Ginny with such pride that she found the courage to go on despite her mother's protests that she should get a normal and full education.

"I've decided to go back to Hogwarts for an apprenticeship with Madam Pomfrey. Professor McGonagall agreed to create a small curriculum for those of us that return so that we can pass the N.E.W.T.s that we need for our careers, but we'll be spending most of our time as apprentices so that we aren't too behind. Most healers finish their seventh year and go on to a two-year apprenticeship before enrolling in the Healers program at St. Mungos. This way, by the time I'm done with my N.E.W.T.s I'll be ready to go straight to St. Mungos."

Ron, of course, laughed and agreed she'd be ready to go to St. Mungos – "You'll have lost your mind after being thoroughly nagged by Madam Pomfrey for two years." Harry hugged her tightly and spun her around the living room with pride – "You'll be the best healer ever."

After many more teas and rock cakes, Mrs. Weasley grabbed her three children in a hug that only mothers can do and kissed each of them on the forehead. "My babies are growing up too fast!"

It was on Ginny's first day back at Hogwarts that Fred realized his fears for baseless. Running into her in the hallways, Ginny didn't even blink as Fred stood sheepishly in front of her, waiting for a fight. Nope, not even his family could see him. That was when Fred visited George for the first time.


	4. Not completely alone

Chapter 3

By the time the one-year anniversary arrived, Fred as depressed as George. They moped around the house together, led their half-lives together, complained at the outrageous Daily Prophet articles together.

"The bloody ministry was useless! They weren't the "great underlying force behind the golden trio and the Order of Phoenix.'"

" What utter bat-shit. Merlin's balls! Another book about the secret life of Harry Potter?"

" Poor kid... Wonder how the search is going... hmm, I guess I should go to the anniversary celebrations and find out... but these pajamas are so comfy." Fred and George muttered back and forth to each other – well George muttered to himself and Fred muttered back. Hovering behind George, every day Fred read the news and let George flip the pages. He had become fairly used to letting his brother do all of the work. Unfortunately, he still could tell George what he wanted him to do, but George was predictable enough that Fed didn't have to worry about missing any news or being without some kind of entertainment.

Fred hated seeing his brother like this. He knew it was his fault, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tell George to move on, to get a life, to stop living like a recluse. Luckily, when the clock chimed noon, there was a sudden pop downstairs and Fred went to investigate.

George didn't hear the tell-tale sound of apparition – he was too busy moaning on about how sleekeazy's hair potion made girls hair a tad bit too greasy for his taste. He was also criticizing the "Madam Malkin's Modern Robe Wear" colomn's newest trend (co-mingling house colors as a sign of patriotism). "Blimey, that shade of blue looks terrible with orange. Gold and red don't make that color of orange! What are they thinking?"

George, distracted by all of the colorful pictures in Witch Weekly, didn't realize the half-life-changing discoveries occurring below him.

"Fred?"

"Hermione?"

"You're a ghost?"

"You can see me?"

Hermione Granger stood in the middle of George's tidy living room (the day before was a do everything but shower and sleep kind of day) with her mouth open in shock. Her brown eyes were wide with questions and her brow furrowed with confusion – leaving her looking rather comically like a cartoon whose features had all frozen during extremely different emotions.

"Of course I can see you – you're a ghost! How come no one mentioned to me you were still around? I would have come back immediately to say- erm, well, hello, I guess." Hermione looked slightly uncomfortable as she realized she had no idea what to say to a ghost. It was one thing to talk to someone who has been dead for hundreds of years, like Nearly Headless Nick. It was quite another to speak with a deceased friend.

"That's the thing! No one _can_ see me. You're the first person, living or dead, to speak to me in a year!" Fred was immediately overcome with emotion and was beginning to float directionless around the room. He had so much to say and so many things to ask, but he couldn't figure out where to begin.

"Wait, not even George? He doesn't know you're here?" Just as Fed was shaking his head, George popped down the stairs and asked, "Who doesn't know who is here?"

"George! You of course – that is, don't know that I am here. I was, erm, trying to get the courage to find you and force you out of bed. Yeah, um, I'm here to make you come to the Burrow before your mother kills all of us via too much food." Behind George, Fred was mouthing, "Thank you" and begging her not to say anything to George.

"Hermione! Looks like you really mean it. You look quite flustered. Mum can't be that bad. Well, yes she could be. Which is why I was planning on spending the day in bed." George slumped onto the couch causing the cauldron on the left leg of his pajamas to explode lint.

"These are my favorite. Spelled them myself for- um well, either way, I don't particularly want to get changed. So, thanks for stopping by. Haven't seen you in a while. But now's not the time..."

Hermione took her first real close look at George and was heartbroken by what she saw. For as much as he looked clean, there was a dirtiness to him. It was as if he stepped in the shower long enough to call it 'a shower' but then immediately toweled off and called it a day. He had always been skinny, but there used to be lean muscle to his frame. Hermione, not knowing what to do, started taking out a tea set from her small beaded purse.

"George, how about tea before I leave, then? It has been a while." As she huddled next to the fire, she silently motioned Fred over to her. Facing the flames so that George wouldn't see, she whispered, "Fred, can you go upstairs while I hang out with George a bit. It is really disconcerting having you floating behind him. I don't know if I can concentrate on him without accidentally talking to you... but you better come find me the next chance I'm alone. We must talk!"

Speaking so quickly, Fred only caught every other word, but he understood clearly enough. He couldn't afford to cause her to slip up in front of his brother on this day of all days. They would really need to talk about Fred's ghosthood and figure out a plan before revealing his existence to anyone, least of all to George. That would just be cruel.

"Is someone flooing me? Are you talking to someone?" George leaned forward and careened his neck to try to see around Hermione.

"No. No. Just us. I'm still getting used to being around other people. That's all." She pulled the kettle off the fire just as it began to boil and promptly made them both a cup of tea.

Not knowing where to begin, George asked, "So, 'Mione, where _have_ you been this past year?"


	5. A year abroad

Chapter 4

Hermione had changed. Everyone had changed, of course, but Hermione was utterly incapable of dealing with the change. After the final battle, Hermione didn't know who she was. She didn't know what she was doing and she didn't know where she was going. So she left.

Hermione is a very sensible woman. Those kinds of sensibilities don't leave a person suddenly. She attended the funerals, memorial openings, celebrations. She shook hands, patted backs, held Ginny's hair after one too many fire whiskeys. She continued on as normal as possible for exactly one month. Then she called her closest friends into the Burrow living room.

"I'm leaving for a bit. I have some muggle errands like seeing to my parents things, selling the house, checking bills and bank accounts and all kinds of really mundane things. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I'll write and stop by when I can." Everyone nodded and hugged her and agreed that made sense.

But they knew under her speech she had many not-mundane things to do. Like find her parents. Like decide whether to retrieve their memories. Like find herself.

Hermione kept to her promise and wrote every week with some small detail about some small thing she was doing. She floo'd Harry and Ron once every other week and pretended everything was ok and that she was on the right track. They smiled back and agreed that the world was coming together nicely even though they were just as unsure as she was.

These smiles and nods weren't lies. They were therapy. All three of them knew they needed to believe the others were feeling better and that things were heading towards normal. The more they tried to convince the others, the more they felt like it was actually possible for the war to be over and their lives to begin.

Grieving and moving on are complex life experiences. Everyone faces them differently, and, for Hermione, she needed to face it alone.

After finding her parents in Australia, Hermione knocked on the door and pretended to be a neighbor coming over with baked goods. She sat in the living room, smiled and made small talk until her father and mother seemed relatively comfortable. Then she asked them, "If you found out that you had a daughter but that she had erased your memories of her, would you want those memories back?"

The question was rather odd and her parents were very confused, but it triggered something. A rip in the seam of Hermione's spell. A rip she could either fix or continue to unstitch.

"A daughter. We don't have a daughter. You can't erase memories."

But as they spoke, they both had a strange sensation that what she was saying _could_ be true. It might not be, but it could. And that they had been told to answer such questions truthfully _as if_ they were true.

Her mother's instincts kicked in, and she found herself saying:

"Well, of course we would love to know about our daughter and to meet her. To tell her how much we love her – after all, you say she'd be our daughter, right? But,... but wouldn't erasing someone's memory be wrong? I'm not saying that's possible, of course, but that would be a rather large betrayal. Perhaps, it would be better not knowing than always wondering if she would do it again. Maybe I'd rather have loved her as I did before but not know any better now."

It was almost as if the question was a party game and she was working through some backwards logic. And like in any party game, the answer you give is always quietly telling the other players about you, regardless of how truthful or not you're being.

Her father nodded and hmm'd and seemed to lack a better answer, or lack the ability to articulate any answer. Finally, he said,

"Well, couldn't she un-erase herself and erase us not knowing about her erasing us? I mean, erasing her, I mean, oh, but can you really erase a memory. Wouldn't that be an interesting thing. Terrible science, tough, terrible. You know, I read about how doctors are trying to map the brain to learn how to cross wire our brains to control us! Quite an article- let me tell you about it..."

And so the party game ended and Hermione nodded and smiled and oooo'd at all the rights places and ahhh'd when her father finished telling them about some conspiracy magazine. She showed the appropriate level of shock at the idea of messing with people's brains. After all, that would be quite the betrayal to change the way someone thinks.


	6. Hermione's undecided future

Chapter 5

After spending some time in Australia, secretly adding and bewitching her parents account to unnoticeably transfer money from her account to theirs whenever it ran low, Hermione decided it was time to travel and to think.

Hermione spent the rest of the eleven months quietly traveling through Asia and Africa meeting with local spiritual guides and healers. She felt like her grieving path was undoubtedly cliché, but there is always a knut of truth to every cliché. She needed a new perspective on things, and interacting with an entirely new culture of witches and wizards seemed to do the trick.

Hermione funded her travels with the money her parents saved for college. Although they started the fund before she found out about Hogwarts, they continued to add to it throughout her years away just in case she decided to attend a muggle university.

Meeting the some of the most interesting and some of the kindest people in the world, Hermione realized she needed to see a little peace to believe it was possible.

Seeing more death and destruction in some of the war-torn parts of the world, Hermione remembered that there is always evil to be overcome and that it is possible to keep fighting when there's no hope left.

All in all, her eleven months abroad was exactly what a young war hero needed. That and some beach time.

Hermione ended her world trip on with a week on a beach in the Mediterranean. She had her first muggle fruit cocktail, made some new British friends ending their year abroad, kissed her third and fourth boy, and danced the night away. Exhausted and feeling slightly better balanced than before, Hermione woke early the day before the one-year-anniversary and caught a portkey back to London.

Returning to the Burrow for the first time in just under a year was an emotional experience. Hermione had owl'd ahead to give them a warning and was delighted to see everyone was already there before her. She was glad to be back, slightly burnt, a little tanner, a lot wiser and much more relaxed.

Harry and Ron had used the year well and were looking much more stable. The three of them sat by the pond in the backyard after all of the celebrations winded down and drank butterbeers while watching the sunset.

"Isn't this such a beautiful end to a really long year. It feels almost fake." Hermione smiled and elbowed Ron for ruining such a nice moment.

"He's right though, Hermione, what a long year. I guess it is time for the three of us to start our normal lives?" Harry looked at the two of them with worried eyes. They all felt like they had taken the year off to do something unusual (travel the world and fight Death Eaters) and now it was time for normalcy to really kick in. Luckily, for the first time since the Battle, that didn't feel wrong.

"Yup, normal lives. Glad to hear you guys finally caught Rookwood. Last one right?" Hermione yawned and spread herself across Harry and Ron's laps. With her head on Harry's thighs and her legs propped up across Ron's calves, she didn't think anything could be better – not even the sunset on the beach or the sunrise above the Himalayas.

"Yup, last known Death Eater. Kingsley thinks it's time for us to get properly trained as Aurors though. Like, to go through the academy and all that. I suppose he's right, and it'll be nice to be on desk duty for the first year or two." Hermione laughed at the thought of Harry hidden under a pile of folders and paperwork at the Ministry.

"As if they'll actually assign you to filing reports, but sounds like a good plan."

"How about you, Hermione? Back to school?"

And again, Hermione was faced with, "And now what?"


	7. Hermione's curiosity

Chapter 6

George looked at Hermione with eyes wide from surprise. He noticed that she looked tanner and a little more toned than the last time he saw her, but he didn't know she had spent most of the past year backpacking and hiking abroad. He couldn't help but admit that he was impressed. It sounded like she had made the most of what was looking like a proper gap year.

"So I just go back and realized you hadn't made an appearance yet. Aren't you coming to the celebrations tonight?" In reality, Hermione hadn't come to convince him to attend the party. She had just started feeling a bit overwhelmed by everyone and thought George would be a great excuse to leave for a little. This was not to say she wasn't at least a little concerned that he hadn't shown up at all the night before.

"Oh, yeah, Mum did owl and say they were expecting you back. Sorry. I was busy. Hmmm likely to be busy today too. But you can hide here a bit longer if you'd like."

She smiled sheepishly at him and said, "Am I that transparent? I was hoping I learned a few tricks to hiding my emotion over the years. Guess not."

"No, not that transparent. I just know the feeling. They're all a bit much, eh?" They both laughed quietly then sat there staring at the fire for a little while longer.

"Come on, George, it'll be fun and I'm sure we'll both be glad we went. Go put on some normal clothes. I'll even bewitch your normal trousers to explode if you'd like." Half way through the end of the sentence, she realized what she was saying and turned bright pink. Her blush and her tan gave her a nice glowing effect and made George burst out laughing.

"Really, Hermione, you'll make my pants explode. Ok, that's a deal maker." Not knowing it was possible, Hermione turned even redder and stuttered out, "um, erm, that came out wrong. Shut it, you know what I meant. Go get changed. Can I use your spare room to switch into my party clothes?"

Still laughing, George replied, "oh, your party clothes, are those your secret to making my pants explode?" More laughter and more blushing, Hermione and George went into the bedrooms upstairs to get ready.

Just as Hermione was taking off her top, she felt a chill pass through the room. She turned and shrieked just slightly.

"Everything ok in there Hermione?"

"Yeah, George, just find. Dropped something on my foot is all."

Fred, with his back turned to the half-dressed Hermione, was laughing loudly. Hermione threw her brush at him, but it gave an unsatisfying thump as it landed on the wall rather than on Fred's back.

"Fred! I know I said when I'm alone, but at least wait for me to get changed!" Hermione quickly finished changing into her outfit for the celebrations – a dazzling dress in a series of blues and yellows in an edgy geometric pattern. The past couple of years had replaced her young, boyish figure with well place curves. The pattern accentuated the right places and distracted you from the less right places while contrasting against her sun-kissed skin. Hermione was definitely growing up nicely.

"I don't have a lot of time, but what is going on? Why can't anyone else see you? Why are you even still a ghost?"

"I don't know. I've been all over place and no one has noticed me. I can't exactly research the problem, but I think I'm getting better at creating breezes. Maybe, with time, I'll become a little more corporeal or more noticeable or something. I couldn't even talk to Nearly Headless Nick to see if he spent his first year invisible."

"Sir Nicholas! That's a great idea. Maybe I can find time to visit Headmistress McGonagall and see if Sir Nick has any advice or information. Hmmm... I can also use the library to try to find out why you're a ghost. I don't think there's much on ghosthood but..." Hermione's mind was already racing well past her ability to speak and Fred could see the gears turning. Suddenly she stopped and looked at him quietly.

"Fred, I am so sorry you died. We've all missed you terribly. I'm getting the feeling that George is a lot more hurt than he's letting on." Tears swelled in her eyes and Fred tried to reach out to her, but ended up just giving her chills.

"Hermione, I haven't heard him laugh like that since before I died. You've got to get into his head. I'm really worried about him. If you're going to make me your new project, don't. Make George it."

"I'm not making you a project. I'm just, well, making plans."

As they were talking, Hermione was trying to check if her shoes and her dress matched. Unfortunately, there was only a vanity mirror and no full-length one. To try to get the right angle, she hopped on the bed and tried squatting just enough to compare her shoes and her dress, when George walked in.

"Are you jumping on Fred's bed? Really, Granger, that isn't a polite thing to do as a guest." He was laughing as Hermione throw a pillow at his head.

"I'm trying to make sure I match. But apparently making you laugh is my new purpose." With a nod at Fred, Hermione stumbled off the bed and pushed George out of the room and towards the Floo.


	8. The anniversary ball

Chapter 7

"Oi! George! Come grab a drink-"

"Hermione, you look great! Haven't seen you in ages-"

Immediately upon arrive at the anniversary party, George and Hermione were tackled by all of the friends that hadn't seen in a while. It gave them a warm feeling to see all of their loved ones in one place. Hermione gave George's hand a quick squeeze and disappeared into the crowd with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood.

Sipping on a glass of champagne and holding a nearly full bottle, Hermione later found George staring at the memorial off to the left of the ballroom. The ministry installed a beautiful frieze that took up the entire wall depicting the all of the people lost in the wars. Each person was shown doing something special to him or her. Remus and Tonks were holding hands under their wedding arch. Sirius was standing next to his motorcycle with a bundle of baby-Harry in his arms. Fred was holding a box of whiz-bangs. At the center Dumbledore stood with just the right amount of twinkle in his eyes. It was a beautiful and heartbreaking sight.

Conjuring up a second flute, Hermione poured George a glass and handed it to him without taking her eyes off of the frieze.

"Thanks."

"Always."

After two more glasses, Hermione finally turned to George with her glass raised. They clinked, raised their glasses to their fallen friends, and finished off their drinks. The bubbles tickled Hermione's tongue and throat making her giggle. Feeling light headed and heavy hearted, Hermione decided she felt like celebrating. She felt a sense of ease for the first time in ages and didn't want to let that go.

Pulling a second bottle out of her beaded purse, she handed the bottle to George to uncork.

"You can fit an entire party in that bag, can't you." As he fiddled with the foil, Hermione quietly muttered something under her breath towards George. Not noticing, George finally managed to get the wrappings off. Just as soon as he uncorked the bottle,

"Boom!"

George looked around confused and quickly trying to hold the top of the bottle. Then he realized the champagne wasn't trying to escape. The cork hadn't made that noise –

"Bang!"

Hermione, in stitches against a nearby column held out her glass. As George poured her a large flute-full, he looked down and realized little cauldrons had appeared on his trousers peeking out from the front flap of his dress robes. One by one, they exploded, emitting a tiny, but powerful, "Boom!" or "Bang!"

"Really, Hermione?"

"Yes, really. I promised I would. Plus, you and I need to lighten up just a little. A tid-bit-o-fun won't hurt us. Fred would be furious that there hasn't been one good prank yet tonight."

George laughed with a bit of sadness behind his eyes. He knew she was right. It was preposterous that the night had gone so smoothly, but he just didn't quite have it in him. So instead he quickly whipped out his wand and shot a light blue spark towards Hermione's dress. Suddenly, the pattern started shifting. Hermione looked down and burst out into laughter again.

"I look like a kaleidoscope!"

"What's that?"

"It's a muggle toy. You look into a tube while turning it and at the end are shaped, colored pieces of glass. The way they align the mirrors or something makes really beautiful geometric patterns- like my dress!"

"Hmmm sounds pretty... wouldn't it be cool if the dance floor were patterned like that... or toilet seats after you've used them?"

"Really George? You go from dance floors to toilet seats? Sounds like a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes product to me. It could be a bit nauseating... but I wouldn't mind a pair of pajamas like yours for Ron and Harry. I think they'd get a kick out of it." Hermione smiled and spun once in her dress. The pattern shifted and stayed the same from George's point of view even though she was practically prancing around the hall.

As she played with the pattern, she continued, "Maybe not toilet seats... but how about wallpaper? Ron and Harry are moving into a new apartment. I'd love to see their faces if I spelled their wallpaper with some ridiculous pattern like this. Or better yet, like inside of our tent."

And suddenly, George's brain started working in overtime. He could make all kinds of products that were charmed with patterns that moved like his pants or Hermione's dress. The spells they had just used were easy enough, but would require application every time you got dressed. If used on wallpaper or flooring, they would only last for a short period of time before wearing off. He'd have to replicate the spells he used for his quidditch and cauldron pajamas which mixed a handful of spells with spell-o-tape to make them stick permanently.

"Maybe I can find a way to weave the spelled patterns into the fabric itself. You know, start a line of hilarious household items." George conjured up a worn, leather-covered notebook. As it floated in front of him, he sketched out some of these ideas using just his wand.

"Hermione, we're on to something here..."

Maybe, just maybe, they were on to the answer to "and now what?"


	9. Starting over

Chapter 8

"Be careful. It's a bit dusty in here. Who knows what's grown since I last visited." George swished his wand upwards and lights slowed flickered on. Hermione stepped in and a cloud of dust instantly enveloped them both.

"A bit dusty? _Eximo Pulvusio_" The cloud settled and quickly shuffled into a neat pile at their feet. Hermione then banished the pile into a bin outside of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Nice work – been learning household chores spells from Mum?" Taking a few steps in, George stopped in the middle of the entrance. He looked around with frustration.

"When will I be able to look at something we owned and not see Fred _everywhere_?"

Although they had been working non-stop for over a month on dozens of new products and ideas, this was the first time George admitted how much Fred's presence influenced him. He didn't know of Fred's actual presence, but he felt his memory woven in every spell, in every idea, in everything George did.

After spending the rest of the anniversary party with George, Hermione rushed to find the boys in Ron's room at the Burrow. Practically glowing with excitement, she barged in without knocking. "Harry! Ron! I'm so excited- Oi! Ginny! You guys, sock, handle, something!"

Redder than a Weasley, Hermione went back to the room she shared with Ginny and found Ron pacing and muttering.

"Bloody hell, saw them too? He shouldn't be allowed to, to, to touch her like that! Brothers and sisters practically!" Hermione laughed, still feeling the high from champagne and inventing.

"Ron, he may be a brother to you, but he's definitely not like a brother to her. I'm sure he'd feel the same way if he saw us kiss." Scooting onto the bed with Hermione, Ron propped himself against the headboard and tried to throw and arm around Hermione. After an awkward back and forth, shifting positions to find something comfortable, Hermione complained, "Ron, you're simply the wrong height!"

Unfortunately, Ron chose that exact same moment to try to kiss Hermione which resulted in more teeth than lips. Hermione, realizing what was going on, tried to concentrate and finally stopped talking.

It had been a year since their last kiss. They spent the month after the Battle trying to find the right time to talk or to try it again or something. But with funerals and hospital visits and memorial openings, they never quite got that moment. After announcing she was leaving, Ron finally cornered Hermione long enough for them to agree to wait and see how things were when she got back. Neither of them really expected her to be gone a year.

"Hermione."

"Ron."

"That was, well, great of course."

"But not quite right?"

"Yeah, not quite what I was expecting."

"You really are just too tall. Or maybe too short. I blame it on that."

"Hermione!" With the tension nicely diffused, Ron settled back onto the headboard and charmed a pillow to hit Hermione and explode feathers everywhere. Hermione immediately charmed the feathers to form into a fluffy bird-like formation and attack Ron. After a much-needed pillow and feather fight, Hermione and Ron curled up on the bed exhausted from laughing.

"You know, I wasn't sure how that would go, but I knew I'd be happy either way. After all of this running and fighting, I just need to know that we'll at least always be friends, right?"

"Ronald. Did your emotional range grow to a full tablespoon?" Hermione laughed and hugged him tightly. "Of course we'll always be friends."

Spending every day with George for over a month, Hermione practically moved into his living room. They would work well into the night and be too tired to worry about appearances. If his mum thought it was strange that Hermione spent the night, well tough. These new products were just too good to call it quits at a reasonable hour.

Harry and Ron were surprised at first when Hermione explained her new plan. Like Hermione, they thought she'd finally start a Ministry job working with house-elves or werewolves. They were glad she found something she enjoyed but were skeptical. She wasn't exactly the biggest prankster. She wasn't even much of a rule breaker.

"I'll be helping with the theory behind George's ideas. I'll let him be the expert on pranks. I've got some ideas for my own line of household spells and whatnot, but we'll see how much of that we'll actually develop. It'll probably need some consumer testing first. Not really sure how tapped in to mainstream Wizarding society, after all... and there's always the defense products that we're continuing to improve. Even with the war over, constant vigilance and all that."

Hermione's real project, however, was shifting manufacturing and production to use sustainable and socially conscious methods. While George focused on new products with some spell-help from Hermione, Hermione went through their old inventory to see what products they could make with less expensive and less endangered ingredients. Most of their products required only spell-work done by either George or Fred, but all of the candies and Wonder Witch products were based off of potions.

Hermione was also pleasantly surprised to learn that George and Fred's first employee was a liberated house-elf named Turkaloo. Formerly a Hogwarts House-elf, Turkaloo didn't hesitate to join the production team after Fred and George made their spectacular exit from Hogwarts. Hermione was not surprised to hear that he had been a vital part of many of Fred and Geroge's pranks.

"I knew you guys had an insider. There's no way you could have pulled off all of those pranks in the great hall without someone charming or poisoning the food for you."

"Hermione, please, we never poisoned the food. We merely added unique and special ingredients that had entertaining effects."

"Sure, George, that's all that it was. You never spiked Crabbe and Goyle's food with U-no-poo."

"Again, entertaining effects."

The real benefit to spending the night after a long day of inventing and spellcasting was the quiet mornings. Hermione woke at 8 am every morning regardless of what time they went to bed. She quietly made breakfast and chatted with Fred until the smell of bacon forced George out of bed. These morning chats were sometimes painful, but were also frequently very informative.

"So you woke up out of your body and just knew you were dead? No panic, no feeling of loss, nothing?"

"Nothing. Later, when I really concentrated on my emotions, I realized I was less, I don't know, neutral-feeling...?"

"Hm, ok. And you say you're able to blow a breeze now? How long did that take?"

Hermione always jotted down notes as she talked and cooked. Having weaseled the spell out of George, her floating notebook and quill-less writing changed her life. She couldn't believe she had ever gotten through Hogwarts using conventional writing methods.

She hadn't found time to visit Hogwarts just yet, but she was already formulating some ideas about Fred's ghosthood. Every morning, Hermione and Fred went through new theories and tried to rehash Fred's first year. After owl-ordering some books, she discovered that the most obscure and ignored scholars on ghosthood believed it was the result of excess soul, rather than unfinished business.

"But an excess of soul? What does that mean and how can we help you move on?" Hermione muttered as she read. Fred laughed behind her. "Who says I'm ready to move on? I'm enjoying this just enough for it to be kind of ok."

"Strong word choice, Fred." Before Hermione could read any further, she heard footsteps and quickly closed the book. She hid her notes in her purse and went to flip the pancakes.

"Morning."

"Morning. Tea, juice or coffee?"

"Yes."

Hermione laughed and patted George's head while handing him a cup of coffee. Mornings weren't his strong point, but the promise of food and coffee always managed to get him up before noon.

"Today's going to be good. We really have to see if any of these products can be made for mass consumption. You know it's time. Right, George?" Sitting across from him, they both looked a little nervous. Not letting his anxiety get the best of him, George stuffed him mouth before answering, "Yup, right. Let's go see the shop."

"George, I don't think he'll ever disappear from your memories, but I think you know it's time to start making new ones. This shop was your life - for both of you guys. I know I'm just tagging along, but I think it'll be great to see it reopened. It's been two years and the world is much less pranked than it should be." Hermione reached out and gently placed her hand on George's turned back. Unexpectedly, he turned around and embraced her fiercely.

Muffled by her hair, George quietly said into her ear, "Thank you. You're completely right. And you're not just tagging along. This is _our_ project now. It's our new plan."

Hermione nearly teared up at George's reaction. She was so glad to hear him say that she was part of this - that she wasn't just a stand-in. Letting her go slowly, George smiled down at her and, for the first time in a long time, Hermione thought there was a little less sadness behind his eyes.

*Thanks to the wonderful writer Gail Carriger for the idea of ghosts resulting from excess soul. That, however, is the only idea I'll be borrowing from her. (If you haven't read the Parasol Protectorate Series, go buy Soulless! Tons of fun – especially if you're looking for a 'it's-almost-summer-and-I-need-a-break' book!


	10. Planning

Chapter 9

Hermione snapped the window curtains shut. She took out the sign they painted the night before and went outside to hang it.

"WWW will reopen [Eventually]." Hermione magicked the sign to track their progress using a spell similar to Molly's clock. The sign would just _know_ when they were ready and would slowly begin a countdown.

Next, they started to tidy up the customer areas. Hermione continued to collect and banish the dust while George went through the little bit of stock left out and checked to see if any were salvageable.

"We're going to spend a lot on restocking the old stuff. Do you think we'll even have enough to try testing the new stuff? I was hoping more of the stuff here would be sellable." George looked a little uncertain as he banished most of the leftover stock to the outside bin.

After a very long night of haggling, they agreed to split costs and make it an even partnership. George thought it was ridiculous that Hermione even fought with him on the issue and was glad he won in the end. She kept insisting that they split it 70-30 or 60-40 because Fred had contributed so much already, but George wouldn't hear of it.

"It's even or not at all. We're starting fresh. I already know that the amount of theory you've contributed to the new ideas outweighs the stuff we already sell. Sold. Whatever. Let's keep this simple and just go halves. I'd feel better if we were in an equal partnership, especially because you're insisting on going equal in investment."

Hermione only agreed in the end because Fred kept repeating George and nodding furiously along. He refused to let her accept a smaller ownership percentage because she didn't want to step on his toes.

The first few days of cleaning were exhausting but fun. George had known Hermione for years, but had never spent a lot of time alone with her. After a month of inventing and planning, they had become fast friends, but he still felt like he didn't know her.

"You're brilliant at these cleaning and repair spells. I can't imagine you learned all of this at Hogwarts." They finally finished with removing the layer of dust and grime that had settled over the entire store.

"I've picked up a few things over the years. Mostly from books until we went on the hunt. Harry and Ron are useless at cleaning and basic maintenance spells, so I've had a lot of practice. To be fair to them, they're capable of doing these spells. They just refused to be helpful." She laughed and took a look at their hard work. The store was completely empty except for new shelving. They replaced all of the wood paneling and flooring with new, sturdy and sustainable wood.

"Well, you're brilliant. The store's a lot bigger than a tent, but looks great. I can't imagine what it was like living with those two slobs while on the run. I could barely handle living with Fred and Lee. If it weren't for Potterwatch, I might have moved out on my own."

"Yeah right. You wouldn't have left Lee alone with Fred. They would have exploded everything between here and Hogwarts!" Hermione chuckled and swished her wand one last time to install the last of the shelving.

"You're right, I wouldn't have left him." Before George could wallow in the thought, Hermione quickly asked for help to install the welcome sign above the cash registers. Distracted for now, Hermione gently placed a hand on his back and took in the finished product.

"It looks nothing like before. So pretty and clean. We've got to add some burn marks or chipped corners," George complained. Hermione laughed and blasted one wall.

"Better?"

"Much. Now for paint and wallpaper. Shall we try our newest products out?" George smiled brightly at Hermione. Her breath caught in her chest. His shaggy hair framed his face just right and his eyes twinkled at the idea of using their new inventions. His happiness was infectious and stirred something deep in Hermione. A peacefulness engulfed her as they tried out different colors and patterns throughout the store.

"It looks like a giant kaleidoscope vomited all over the store. I like it."

After re-hiring Tukaloo (who had been on a lovely vacation with his family for the past two years), Hermione and George began to rebuild and restock. They ventured out to different apothecaries and farms to find the best ingredients. After much debate and many hours arguing, they agreed that although the Malfoy Apothecary may be evil, but it had the best ingredients. Plus, the Malfoys recently adopted a sustainability policy that suited Hermione. ("It's simply good business. It's cheaper to invest in research on growing sustainable alternatives or farming the ingredients rather than to continually clear an area of an ingredient and have to find a new source. Really. Just good business.")

"George, can't we start our own apothecary and avoid dealing with the Malfoys. Regardless of their shift in allegiance, I'd rather not have to deal with them." Hermione called out from around a box of Skiving Snackboxes. Every time they had this debate, Hermione managed to find something to preoccupy her and George was reaching the end of his wand.

"Hermione, Malfoy clearly needs the business and we obviously can't afford to start our own apothecary. Be sensible. He was practically begging us to contract with them. He even added that clause that they would hire a free elf to work on our orders." Their recent visit to the Malfoy shop revealed a very empty but brand new store. The original was left untouched by the Death Eaters when all of the surrounding shops were blown up, but the Malfoys wanted to fit in with their neighbors. So they rebuilt the apothecary to match the newness sparkling throughout Diagon Alley. Unfortunately, business was not as good as it had been before, and during, the war.

"Sensible! George, do not tell _me_ to be sensible. It's Malfoy! And he was not begging. He was as snooty and proud as usual. He was just trying to be persuasive." Hermione finally emerged from another set of boxes and stamped her foot in protest.

What George didn't know was Hermione couldn't look at Draco or his family without seeing Bellatrix looming over her in their manor. For all of their time together, George and Hermione did a miraculous job of avoiding talking about the war at all. They were looking forward instead of backwards. Or so they kept telling themselves. A crack in Hermione's façade was growing quickly though and she needed to escape to repair it.

"Hermione, he was begging. If we're going to open any time soon, we have to pick someone!"

"Fine! But you're solely in charge of that account. I'll split the other accounts with you, but you deal with the Malfoys on your own."

"Deal." George shouted to Hermione's retreating figure.

Fred hovered around the shop looking thoughtful. This was it. This was exactly what George and Hermione needed. A purpose. A plan. So why did they both look so distracted? The sadness may have been gone, but why weren't they happy? Fred followed George around the store as George took in the newness. Running his hands up and down the banister along the stairs, adding creaks to certain steps, making small nicks in different shelving – George was slowing recreating the old store. At the very end George found a small niche in a back corner and slowly engraved "In Memory of Fred Weasley" with his wand. Unbeknownst to him, Hermione had already engraved those very same words on the underside of a top shelf in the back corner of the newest section of the store.

Fred smiled sadly and floated over to George's apartment where Hermione was rapidly scribbling notes in her work journal at the kitchen table. Next to her were a large glass of wine and a cold plate of leftovers. Most of her drawings were caricatures of George being pied in the face or struck by a jelly-legged jinx. Between those drawings were sketches of Malfoy being turned into a ferret and bounced by a mean looking little girl.

"Quite the artist, aren't you. Everything alright, Ms. Granger?" Fred hovered behind her snickering.

"Yeah, find, sparkling. I just wish we could have found someone else to cater to our needs." Before Fred could even make a joke of her choice of words, Hermione started muttering under her breath about the Malfoy Manner and its spoiled inhabitants.

Hermione looked frustrated and worn out. She spent a great deal of time telling Harry and Ron to overcome their prejudices in order to set the right example for the rest of the Wizarding world, but she really just wanted to wallow in her own anger. "Haven't I earned the right to ignore him? Maybe I shouldn't hate him or want to punch him in the bloody nose for what his aunt did or for what he didn't have the bollocks to do, but can I at least never associate with him again? Bloody bitch Bellatrix and her horrible, horrible knives. Poor Dobby, poor sweet Dobby." Fred had never seen Hermione use such foul language and was too shocked to notice his brother's entrance.

"Hermione, is everything alright?" George stood in the doorway of the kitchen unsure of whether he should come in or stay out. Hermione looked up quickly and tried to dash away her tears before he could notice. Her hair had come loose from her bun and was floating around her head in wisps of curls. Slowly, George walked up besides her and cradled her to his chest. Seated, her head came to just about his heart making for the perfect half hug. Throwing her arms around his waist, Hermione sobbed loudly and let the tears loose.

Mumbling into his shirt, Hermione told George about Bellatrix and the Malfoy manner. She told him about Dobby sad and triumphant death and about burying him outside of Shell Cottage. She left some of the details out, mostly wishing to keep her scars a secret, but George knew that her experiences had hurt her much deeper than she let on.

They stayed in the kitchen until Hermione couldn't find any tears left to cry and then George began making a fresh dinner while telling Hermione about some of his escapes and near misses while on the run with Potterwatch. He told her stories that made her laugh and made her heart ache. He talked about Fred and Lee and the many different witches and wizards they came across during the year leading up to the Battle. Most of his stories appeared humorous and were meant to make Hermione laugh, but underlying everything George said was the reality of Fred's ultimate death.

As George stirred the pasta sauce one last time, Hermione stood up and hugged him from behind. She buried her head into his shoulder blades and whispered that they would be all right, eventually. Holding her arms close to him, George simply nodded and the moment was over.

But things had changed. Their friendship had changed and they were both glad for someone else to confide in. It felt like a beginning for the first time after too many sad endings.


	11. Ministry red tape

Chapter 10

"We've got plenty of start-up cash, George. I've been looking over our accounts, and if we put down a little more each, we'll still be perfectly comfortable if something were to go wrong, but will still be able to pay these bills. We should double check with the ministry before spending any money, though. Let's not get caught in some ridiculous red-tape scheme that the ministry has cooked up."

Hermione and George sat on opposite sides of the large wooden worktable in the newly added production room in the back of the shop. Accounting books, scrolls, and blueprints were scattered in front of them and Hermione was totaling up their most recent bills. They were approaching opening day but still hadn't crossed every "t" and dotted every "i".

Behind them, an automated machine whizzed away. Every few minutes it would sputter loudly and a bell would ring before a small box of puking pastels dropped out from one end. After hours of trial and error, Hermione surprised George with a magically powered automated packaging machine to help speed the production process. Although they still made the candies by hand, Hermione and George used the machine to put all of the final touches together. It brought them a step closer to being finally ready to reopen.

"Took care of it – I had a chat with Kinglsey at dinner yesterday at the Burrow. He said it all sounds great, but that we should draw up our partnership and a licensing proposal and bring it by the ministry sometime this week. He sounded like he really wants us to get this going. If you ask me, I think he misses our Patented Daydreaming Charms."

Hermione laughed as she contemplated why kinds of daydreams the Minister must have missed. "Well, let's get those papers together and head over tomorrow."

The next afternoon George and Hermione sat in the lobby of the business licensing office waiting to get the final stamp of approval for WWW to reopen. George shifted his weight back and forth showing his discomfort. It was the first time he had put on his Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes uniform. The bright mixture of colors made him stand out against the dull grey and blue of the Ministry.

"Percy. How are you." George greeted his brother with short. declarative. statements.

"Hermione, George. I see that you've got your paperwork with you. I'm glad to hear Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes will be reopening. It's all that anyone around here can talk about. Last of the Diagon Alley shops to reopen. Should be a grand time. Aiming for back-to-school shopping?" Percy looked terribly uncomfortable and nervous. He kept shuffling the papers back and forth, not really reading any of it.

Hermione looked between the brothers and gasped. They both looked at her and she stammered, "hiccups. Don't mind me."

"Right there, looks like everything is in order. Congratulations. You have been approved a Ministry business license." Percy stiffly stood and shook their hands while handing Hermione their stamped paperwork.

As soon as they were out of earshot of Percy, Hermione stopped George.

"Have you had a proper conversation with your brother in the past year?"

Technically, Hermione still lived at the Burrow so for propriety's sake, every other day they would work at the Burrow until it was dinnertime. Then they would try to keep up with all of the chatter and gossip. Ginny was home for summer break and Ron and Harry usually made it home in time for dinner. Bill and Fleur would come every week for Sunday Dinner and Harry tried to bring Teddy for at least one Sunday a month. Meal times seemed to be the only time the Weasley family could gather in one place.

Percy always made it to the Burrow for dinner before floo'ing to his own apartment. It was clear to everyone that Percy was trying to make up for being such an absolute prat before the Battle.

Hermione realized he always seemed to sit as far as possible from George. Or perhaps, it was George trying to sit as far as possible from Percy.

"Well, no, not really." George looked uncomfortable and stared at the wall behind Hermione. Hermione immediately turned around, marched back into Percy's office, informed him it was 5 o'clock which clearly meant he should join them for dinner. Surprised, he stuttered out a quick yes, grabbed his hat and coat and followed her out the door.

Not suspiciously at all, as soon as the three of them reached the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione suddenly had cramps and had to leave.

"Oh, gentlemen, you'll just have to eat without me. I really feel like I might die. Silly womanly problems. I must be going." And with a twist, she apparated. Never being one to question a woman on womanly problems, Percy and George shuffled awkwardly into a booth and then just stared at each other.

Three fire whiskeys later, Percy stuttered out, "George. It's all my fault. I can't. I can't. I can't say how sorry I am. It's all my fault," and burst into sobs.

Startled, George ordered another round and tried to pat Percy's back.

"Percy, really. It isn't your fault at all. Rookwood killed Fred. Rookwood is at fault. Neither of us could have saved him. Neither of us could have done anything differently." Shoving the fourth shot under Percy's bowed head, George raised his glass and said, "To Fred."

Looking up and raising his own glass, Percy clinked his glass and gulped down his fourth shot of fire whiskey, ever.

In the meantime, Fred was giving Hermione the play-by-play. He would apparate to the bar, hear something funny, return to Hermione, relay the conversation back to her and then pop back to the bar.

Unfortunately (or possibly fortunately) Fred missed that last scene and popped back in to find them singing loudly and swaying back and forth with their arms around each other's shoulders. Laughing, Fred joined in for a song before reporting the success to Hermione.

"I must have missed something, but your plan worked. Seems like they're back on good terms. Fairly friendly, I'd even say."

Hermione laughed and congratulated herself on her success before getting ready for bed. Like most nights, she curled up on an enlarged and magically fluffed couch in the living room. She knew she should either get her own apartment or start actually living at the Burrow, but work was so busy that she refused to change her habits just yet.

When she awoke, she found George trying, loudly, to tip-toe through the living room to the stairs.

"George, what are you doing?" His drunken sway gave him away.

"Shhh. Go back to shleep. Didn't mean to wake you." Slurring his words, George giggled as he tripped over the coffee table and onto the couch. Sprawled on top of Hermione, George gave up on being quiet and laughed loudly into her ear. George shifted to lay properly along the couch next to Hermione and Hermione noticed that he seemed to be just tall enough for her head to use his chest as a pillow without her feet sticking past his. Not that she was planning on snuggling up with him, of course.

"Hey, George, let's get you to bed. Did you guys even try the dinner part of 'having dinner'?" Hermione gathered him together the best that she could and slowly helped him up the stairs. Lightly pushing him onto his bed, she took off his shoes before trying to find his favorite pajamas.

"Don't worry about it. No need."

And suddenly George was down to his boxers and sprawled across his bed. Hermione turned bright red and tried to look away, but she couldn't help but get a peek. George was still too skinny, but eating regularly and playing the occasional game of quidditch before Sunday dinners had helped him gain back most of what he lost during the past year. Even with the weight loss, there was no denying that George Weasley was built well. Very well built.

"Hermione. Why do you sleep on the couch? I've got a second bedroom. It's silly that you still live at the Burrow. Just live here." But before Hermione could process the offer and respond, George was fast asleep.

The next morning Hermione woke to a loud surprise.

"Hermione, George?" Percy shouted as he stepped through the floo.

"Oh- Hermione, wasn't expecting you on the couch. Everything ok?" Hermione groggily looked up from her makeshift bed and nodded.

"Yeah, I always sleep on the couch. Why? What's up?"

"Oh. Wait, you mean you and George aren't. Oh." By this point, Hermione was already in the kitchen searching for coffee. Percy, only a little off balance from the night before, stumbled in after her.

"Hmm. What was that? Coffee? Tea?"

"Either is fine. So I quit my job and I'm ready to start work today."

"Work?"

"Yes. At the shop. You'll need an accountant and ministry liaison, after all." Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and turned to look at Percy through sleepy eyes.

"GEORGE!"

After finally getting a cup of coffee into her system, Hermione, George and Percy reached an understanding. Percy would be joining the team in a managerial capacity but with no ownership rights, Hermione would continue working on theory and advertising and George would be dead.

"I can't believe you offered him a job without even running it by me!" Hermione growled after Percy left. Her hair, having never been given its morning once-over, was flying in every direction from out of her wand-made-ribbon.

George stood there looking absolutely befuddled, still mostly hung-over. His confusion wasn't the result of alcohol, however. It was because he had never noticed how stunning Hermione looked angry. Sure he had seen her in every stage between slightly annoyed to enraged, but this time was different. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and looked again. Still beautiful.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry. Blame the fire whiskey. I barely remember asking him to join the team. We were talking about Fred and about the Battle and he mentioned how he was making a joke about quitting when Fred- when it happened. I couldn't let the opportunity pass me by. He clearly hates the Ministry and his job. He'll be great working with us." Hermione slumped into a kitchen chair and nodded slowly.

"Of course you're right. Still. George Weasley, never make a business decision without running it by me first." Even as she said it, she realized George was going to listen to her to the tee.

"Hermione, I'm going to put these up, ok?"

"Hermione, I'm going to sweep this, all right?"

"Hermione, I'm going to-"

"George, enough. I take it back. Pass important business decisions by me." George laughed, patted her on the back and zoomed off into the interior of the store to do whatever project he had planned.

Hermione laughed and tossed a small whiz-bang after him, managing to go off just as it hit his backside.

"Oi! Hermione! Watch it!"

The store was nearly ready to be reopened and Hermione was full of excitement and anticipation. Their newest lines were tested and ready to go. Adding so many new products while still knowing there would be a high demand for the old ones meant they added a third floor to the shop. To add a little magic to the space, they enchanted the ceiling to reflect the weather like the Great Hall and add extra charms to make it snow whenever it was wet out. Luckily, Hermione went up to the third floor on a rainy day before the grand opening and realized they hadn't thought throw the spell. The third floor was filled with wet slushy snow that was slowly melting and dripping through to the floor below. After some experimenting, Hermione tweaked the charm to melt and evaporate immediately upon touching anything. It made for a beautiful experience.

George stumbled up the wet stairs to ask what was happening just as Hermione perfected the changes. Finding her standing in the middle of a light snowfall, George was mesmerized. Surrounded by floating snowflakes, Hermione was spinning and dancing like a kid at Christmas. Gathering some of the earlier snowfall into his hands, George sent a large snowball at Hermione and hit her square in the back.

"Geoooooorrrgge!" Before he could even turn around, Hermione sent all of the remaining snow straight at him, creating a snowman shaped pile.

Fred popped up besides her and smiled at their hard work. George called a truce, transfigured a nearby rag into a white flag, and shook off the snow. George apparated home to get dried off, leaving Hermione laughing as she cleaned up their mess.

"He seems happier."

"Agreed." Hermione turned to Fred and smiled. She could see he was relieved that George was finally moving on from the death of his twin. Fred didn't talk about his brother much, but Hermione could tell the impact of his death bothered him just as much as it hurt George. Lately, Fred spent more time away between visits with Hermione. She didn't know where he went, but she knew he was weighed down by all that had happened.

"By the way, I stopped over and visited Hogwarts the other day."

"Find out anything useful?" Fred looked at Hermione nervously. He wasn't sure what the right answer was supposed to be which made him worry about whatever she might have to say.

"Talked with Sir Nicholas. Good news and bad news. He was also invisible when he first died. He thinks it has something to do with letting those around you move on. He agrees that this 'unfinished business' theory is codswollop. I guess most ghosts take their first generation to travel and avoid people they know. Helps with letting the living live. He couldn't remember how long it was, but eventually other ghosts were able to see him. He thinks it took around 150 years for people to be able to see him, though." Hermione wasn't sure how to read Fred's reaction. He looked relieved in some ways. He wouldn't have a choice but to avoid his family. He knew deep down that his original instincts were right. He needed to let them move on and this just confirmed it.

"But, that doesn't explain why you can see me."

"Still not sure. I'm going to keep researching. I hope it doesn't mean that I'm going to start seeing dead people all over the place. I don't think I could handle that. Either way, at least we know more now than we did before. Nick wanted me to tell you to visit Hogwarts every few years until he can see you. He thinks you'd be a great House ghost." Hermione smiled kindly at Fred knowing that these complicated rules made the afterlife just that much more unexplainable for Fred. His answer to "and now what?" would be even harder to find.

"But, I'd only want to be the Gryffindor House ghost and I doubt Nearly Headless Nick will give up his place." Fred seemed to enjoy the idea of haunting Hogwarts. It seemed to feel right.

"I had the feeling that Sir Nicholas thought his time might be coming to an end. He had no way of explaining it to me or even understanding what it meant, but it appears that there is an end, even for ghosts."

Fred felt a sense of relief that he wasn't expecting. Being around forever sounds intriguing at first, but Fred knew that at some point he would be ready to move on to whatever is next, whatever it was that just wasn't ready for him yet.

Author's note:

Sorry it took me so long to update – I started writing this during finals as a way to procrastinate and to keep my sanity, so when I finished up and went on vacation, I had to put this on hold. Hopefully I'll go back to updating more regularly. In all likelihood, I don't think there will be many more chapters. I like the idea of finishing my first story (everything I wrote before this was abandoned after 10 or 15 chapters...) and I think I see this story ending soon but then being followed by a sequel. We'll see, I may completely change my mind between now and then.

Thank you to everyone that is reading this and special thanks if you've got an alert for it. I love the idea of people following this story as is grows.

I would love some constructive feedback. I am fine if you don't write the usual "looks good" or "I like this" type of reviews (and I am definitely fine if you don't send "this sucks" or "I hate this" reviews either), but if you have thoughts on the plot development, pace, characters, etc. I would really like to hear it.


	12. Uncertainty

Chapter 11

"Hermione?"

"George?"

"What are we doing?"

"Setting up banners and balloons...?"

"No, I mean, why are we doing this? Is re-opening the shop really a good idea?" George sat in the middle of the shop with his legs crossed beneath him. They were setting up for the next day's grand opening. After months of working on new products and fixing up the shop, it was finally time to re-open the Weasleys' Wizzarding Wheezes .

"Why wouldn't it be a good idea? We've been working so hard for this. It should be exciting..."

"Then why don't we sound excited?"

Hermione was precariously balancing on a ladder to George's left trying to hang one of a dozen banners. George secretly kept undoing the opposite side to make it just a touch lower or higher than the side she was working on. As the smartest witch he had ever met, George thought she would catch on a little quicker and simply charm the banners in place. Much to his amusement, twenty minutes had passed, and she still hadn't realized what he was doing.

"Erm, I am excited. A little nervous, though. Maybe a little sad?" Her body language spoke of her uncertainty. She was slightly hunched over and the worry lines in her forehead were more prominent than usual. She came down from the ladder and sat with her back leaning up against George's back, similarly sitting with her legs crossed beneath her.

Looking up at their handiwork, Hermione reached for Georges hand and gave it a squeeze. In response, George held on and didn't let her pull away.

"I think we're both a little worried about what we've gotten ourselves into. Re-opening the store is going to be a lot of work and a lot of responsibility. After all of these months, this shop has become a bit of a safe haven, hasn't it?" George nodded in agreement with Hermione. The shop was always a special place for him and Fred. It was their way of getting away from everyone's expectations from the world's demand that they grow up, graduate, get real jobs and be boring. It had been their baby, and it gave them something to be truly proud of.

"After Fred died, I never thought I would re-open the shop. I couldn't imagine being here without him. And then, somehow, you got me back here and it became a new safe place. A new place for me to hide from the world. When we first started the shop, Fred and I hid from Mum here. We spent days in the back room inventing and tinkering, but really we were just trying to avoid going back to the Burrow where Mum would give us that look. The "what in the world are you two thinking?" look. She was so disappointed in us."

"Not disappointed. Worried. I wouldn't be surprised if she was more afraid of losing you guys to fame and fortune than to vagabond-hood."

"That's not even a real word. Can I really trust your opinion when you're already making things up?"

Hermione pushed back on George as if to say, "really? That's what you're focusing on?"

"Ok, fine, I'll take your word for it. I think she was convinced we'd blow each other up before making any real money. It was all going so well..."

"Re-opening the store doesn't make this any less of a safe haven for us. Really, it is a chance at normalcy. Right? We finally can say we've got a plan."

"Hermione, why didn't you become an auror like Harry and Ron? Or go back to school and do something brilliant like save the world? I mean again, of course." George leaned back a little further so his head was resting on the back of hers. He felt her shrug in response to his question.

"It didn't feel right. I wasn't ready for a nine to five or something equally mundane, but I definitely didn't want to be back in constant danger. I wanted to see the world and be away from all of the chaos here. Maybe escape a little." George didn't respond. Instead, he let the silence weigh on them until Hermione finally opened up.

"Maybe I should do something else. Something real. Sure, we're still really young, but I probably should have a more definitive path. I kept telling myself, 'when you get back, you'll find an apartment, get a part time job and apply for either muggle university like my parents always wanted or for an apprenticeship.' I could go into any branch of magic-"

"Except divination. I heard about your third year, you know."

"Well, yes, except divination. Rubbish subject. But the point was, I got back and just couldn't bring myself to start. I kept finding excuses to put it off."

"Is this just an excuse?" George turned to face her. Feeling her support shift from behind her she also turned until they were knee-to-knee. George was still holding her hand and had unknowingly tightened his grip in worried anticipation of her answer. He would understand if she saw this as a temporary distraction to help her hide from real life, but he secretly hoped she was in this for the long haul. George and Fred had made plans for how to run the shop alone when they first hiding from Death Eaters. They figured that either of them could get hurt (neither contemplated what would happen if the other one died), so they figured out what could be done alone and what would need hired help to keep going. But George didn't want to do that yet. He realized he liked having Hermione's help.

"No. Maybe."

"Good enough for now, I guess." George sighed and felt a bit of an ache in his chest. He had rebuilt his life around Hermione. She was the sole motivation for getting out of bed. She was his inspiration and his partner. It hurt to think of her leaving him eventually.

"We're quite a team aren't we? I couldn't even get out of bed for most of that year and you were traversing the world in order to avoid all of us here. Now we're just hiding in here. Are we really ready for this?"

"George," Hermione looked straight into his eyes with determination, "we've got to be ready. It's time we start moving on from the war and the pain and the sadness. This shop is what the Wizarding world needs, but, more importantly, it's what we need. The last year and a half has been rough for all of us. Bringing back the pranks and the fun is exactly what we need to begin the healing process. Fred would be so proud of you. He probably would hit you upside the head for taking so long. You know he wants you to be happy more than anything else."

Hermione reached over and brushed a single teardrop from George's cheek. She tucked a stray hair behind his ear and gave him a full smile. George nodded and leaned his head into her open palm. He knew she was right. He knew it was time to let the war wounds close.

"And you? Is this what you need? Or is this just another way to avoid your own pain?"

"No, no more avoidance. You're right I can't preach to you about moving on and then plan to wallow in my own doubts and fears, but I can't deny that this is a bit of both healing and hiding. I'm not even twenty years old. Am I really supposed to know my purpose just yet?"

George shook his head and reached out to hold her face in his palms. He smiled reassuringly before saying, "purpose is overrated, but it doesn't hurt to start dreaming again. For now, enjoy this with me, and we can always help you figure out what's next later."

For a moment they sat there with their eyes locked and only inches between them. A peacefulness settled around them. Slowly, George reached for Hermione and turned her away from him while pulling her into his arms. He conjured up a sturdy box to lean against so that she could lean against his chest with his legs on either side of her.

"Hermione?"

"George?"

"I haven't forgotten about what I said the other night."

"The other night?"

"After the pub with Percy."

"And what did you say again? All I seem to remember was you stumbling onto the couch I was deeply asleep on." George could hear the smirk in her voice.

"Well, yes, there was that. After that. You should, you know, move in. Officially, that is." Mentally, George blamed his sudden nervousness on pre-opening-day-jitters and not on his proximity to a beautiful woman or on his invitation for her to move in.

"Are you sure? I'd be taking over Fred's old room. Are you ready to clean it out and all of that? The couch is fine for when we have late nights." Hermione began to turn to face George while she over-thought the suggestion. Instead, George held on tighter, being an anchor in the conversation.

"Hermione, we have late nights every night. You haven't stayed at the Burrow in weeks. Mum probably already thinks you've moved out and just forgot to tell her. It is completely logical for you to move in. That should be convincing enough for you.

"Logical yes, but only if you are really ok with giving up your personal space to the likes of me. It would be really nice to be settled somewhere finally. I haven't had a room of my own in almost three years. I kept telling myself to start apartment hunting, but that would be so much work. Plus, I doubt I can afford something on my own... Wait, Merlin's beard, I haven't paid you any rent all of this time. You should have said something. I doubt its easy paying for a two bedroom place on your own." Hermione lightly slapped George's arm.

George laughed and shook his head. "Fred and I bought this place outright after we made some money. We used the first big profits to buy the shop. We didn't want to get caught with crazy payments if business slowed down after the initial boom when we first opened. No need to worry about rent, just move in and help me keep this place clean. As you've learned, I'm terrible at keeping up with dishes and all that."

"Well, if you're sure...

"Of course, I'm sure. We should probably finish up here and then I'll need to pack up Fred's things. It's probably time for that anyways." George stood and helped Hermione up. He then whispered a quick spell and evened out all of the banners at once.

"George. You better not have been messing with the banners all that time!"

"Hermione, I would never do that. Unless the brightest witch of our age insisted on hand hanging the banners and was oblivious to the magic at work... that would be too good an opportunity to pass up."

Hermione smacked him on the shoulder and proceeded to undo his work.

"It looks better uneven. Fits in with the disheveled theme of the store."

"Right then, let's head home."

"Home. I like the sound of that."

A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! They make my day. This story is a bit wandering (maybe a little plotless), but it's my way of exploring what it means to be 'finished' with a chapter of your life (for better and for worse) and not know what to do next. It's a bit slow and may not be going very far, but I'm enjoying writing it. My hope is to finish it sometime this summer and to go back and maybe flesh it out a bit. Or I might write another similar story but give it a different purpose. We'll see...


	13. An overdue conversation

Chapter 12

"Alright, George. It's time. You can do this. A few swishes of your wand, a couple of boxes, and then it'll be ready for Hermione to move in. That's all that matters." George took a deep reassuring breath and slowly opened the door to the second bedroom. Fred's old room.

Since Fred's death, George hadn't allowed anyone to enter the room besides him. Even then, he would come in, cry himself to sleep in the middle of the floor and not touch a single thing. Months of dust covered everything except the spot on the floor where George regularly slept. Well, regularly until a nosey, pushy, wonderful Ms. Granger re-entered his life. George hadn't even thought about this room since the anniversary ball (with the exception of the night he drunkenly invited Hermione to move in).

"Fred, seriously. Why did you own so much crap?" George pushed in past the random scrolls scattered throughout the floor mixed with dirty clothes and prototype pranks. Nearly every inch of wall space was covered in shelves covered in toys or pranks. Any shelf-less space was wallpapered with Quidditch posters and the occasional racy picture of some famous witch or another.

"Because you always brought random shite home with you from the shop. Where in the world did you even buy most of these ridiculous things?" Fred responded from the far corner. He hovered there unsure of whether he should be watching or not. Completely oblivious to Fred's appearance, George shuffled around talking out loud to himself.

"Well, I guess most of it is from me from that antique rubbish store down the street. I just thought these antique toys were so great. It is like looking at our predecessors at work." George slowly picked up an old-fashioned clapping monkey and lightly laughed as it sprang to life and made a racket. He gently placed it in the first box on the floor labeled 'Keep.' Secretly, he knew he had labeled all of the boxes 'Keep', but it felt more productive to pretend he was organizing and sorting.

Fred grumbled, "Oy, hurry and shut that up." George chuckled one last time and switched the muggle toy off.

"Yeah, enough of that for now. Hm, I guess most of these should go together. Merlin, I hated this thing." George was trying to fit all of the random collectables into the box when he came across a disturbingly dirty teddy bear. Its eyes were just a bit too big for its small head and its paws appeared to have actual claws on the end.

"Tammy!"

"Who in the world names a teddy bear Tammy. Gred, you are- were- absolutely nuts. And I'll never forgive you for charming this thing. I may even need to throw it away."

"Never, Forge? Really?"

"Ok, not never. Ok and I can't throw it away. Gads, I'm pathetic. Hugging a malicious face eating charmed terror bear as if it's... well, you. I swear I still have nightmares from this demon spawn teddy. Sure, it was a great first prank, but why couldn't you have charmed it to attack Percy instead. Or Ron. Then he'd be afraid of spiders and teddy bears. I think I screamed louder and more squeal-y than Ginny when I woke up to find this monster sitting on my chest with its red glowing eyes and sharp claws. Wanker."

All the while, Fred was rolling in laughter at the memory of his first prank. They couldn't have been more than 8 or 9 when Fred got so mad at George for putting worms in his pillows that he accidentally charmed the previously-sweet-and-innocent teddy bear to come alive at night and haunt George. It was a week of nightly terrors before Bill and Charlie finally caught the bear in the act and proved that George wasn't making it all up.

"It may have been an accidental prank, but I still win for best first prank ever."

"It may have been an accidental prank, but you still win for best first prank ever." George and Fred simultaneously sighed and slumped to the floor (well, floated down close to the floor).

"I miss you."

"I miss you."

"I wish we could go back to the way things were."

"Pranking and joking and bringing overall cheer to-"

"The sad youth of tomorrow will never really know what a Gred and Forge joke was really like. How am I supposed to live without you?"

"How do I move on without you? How can I just leave?"

George was silently sobbing now as he took out his wand and aimed it at the remaining toys. One by one, he put them into the boxes and sealed each box with a tear. Then he took down the posters and removed the excess shelving and plastered the holes and repainted the walls and again he cried.

"This will always be your room, but it's time." George shrunk the bed to make it easier to dispose of and then decided all of the furniture needed to go. "A real fresh start for Hermione. And for me."

"Of course you'd give up on my room for a pretty girl. As soon as we agreed you'd get to keep the apartment if we met ourselves two pretty young things and grew up, I knew you'd beat me to it. I guess it was the right deal." Fred watched as his room slowly disassembled. He wanted to cry out and stop George from getting rid of his memory - of what was essentially his shrine.

"Always knew it would be a pretty girl to take over this room. True, I thought it might be my first daughter or a wife in need of a study, but Hermione will do just fine. She'll make a much better flatmate. Plus the unfinished basement of the shop is still yours. I can't imagine I'll need that much space anytime soon... You're probably already haunting it, you mischievous bastard."

"Hey! I'm haunting the apartment, not the shop! And, might I say, what a pretty girl she is. You know, George, you really should find your man parts and get a little closer, if you know what I mean."

"You'd probably tell me to make her my wife and keep to the plan-"

"Ok marrying her wasn't what I meant, but that will work too"

"She is rather wonderful. I don't know how I would have survived these past few months without her-"

"You'd still be a waste of space in bed."

"I'd probably never have left bed."

"Seriously, George, pursue this. She's great for you. Then you can go back to never leaving bed, if you catch my drift. You need to find happiness and move on from the war."

"I bet you'd tell me to make a move. You always did have a bit of a soft spot for her. I think you purposefully planned pranks for her to catch us. I know I did. I always made sure there was a hole in the plan so that she could stumble upon us. She was the only person that really saw how ingenious our tricks were. She really understood how much work this all takes."

"That's because she's bloody brilliant under all of that wild hair and school girls' clothes."

"Smart one, she is." George shook his head as if to clear away these thoughts. He knew that his feelings for Hermione had been evolving over the past few months. His fondness for her only kept growing, and he felt like he was seeing the real Granger for the first time. She was bossy and bookwormish, but also caring and cheerful. She looked like a mess most days, but it was only because she couldn't be bothered with hairbrushes and Sleekeazy when books and magic could take up her time instead. She drove him nuts with her never-ending questions about their old products and with suggestions for new ones, but he was beginning to love her constant push for more and better. She motivated him to keep going and to keep trying, and that was worth all of the minor annoyances. She wasn't perfect and still needed to grow up a bit and find her place -and hopefully then find enough courage to slow down and stop trying to prove herself worthy at every chance – but she was on the right path. And George couldn't stop thinking about her.

"So why not? Go after her. She's already moving in. She's probably already falling head of heels for you if she's even half as brilliant as we all think. With your Weasley Twin charm and good looks, how could she resist?"

"I can't imagine she's even vaguely interested. My Weasley Twin charm hasn't exactly been on lately, and I think I shower once a week at best. Can't be what a girl's looking for..."

"Yeah, you've been a bit of a wet blanket lately. She enjoyed the snow fight, though. Got all girly and sparkly-eyed over it."

"Maybe I should do something fun to say thank you. Something even better than that snowfight. Not to woo her or anything – just to say thank you."

"'Atta Boy – but don't stop at thank you. Go for 'wooing' too."

"Am I really ready for that? I can't deny that it would be part 'woo' and part thanks..."

"Of course you are!"

"You'd tell me that I should jump head first, ("Not quite what I said!") but I don't know. I can't reel her in only to collapse under all of this – the shop, the new products, re-entering the family, moving on. This is a bit heavy, mate. I need you here to push me, to keep me going."

"I'll always be here – figuratively at least, seeing as how you don't know that I'm here literally too."

"Hm, I suppose Hermione's right that you'll always be here for me."

"Brilliant girl."

The final thing to go was Fred's hideous exploding cauldron curtains. Voila. An empty room only filled with two heavy hearts.

"I miss you."

"I love you, brother."

"Me, too."

A/N: Hello all- Sorry it took so long to update – summer has been great, but it has been busy! I'm so excited to see how many people have added this story to their alerts! I hope you enjoy this chapter! More to come soon, hopefully...


	14. Difficult Conversations

Chapter 13

**A/N: It has been way to long since I last updated – I am so sorry! I was trying to finish this before the summer ended but my plans never stay on track. School started back up and I just couldn't quite decide where this story is headed. I've got a new plan so here is a brand new chapter with another one half-way written. I hope to finish that one much sooner. I really want to wrap up this story soon so I can finally say I finished a story – and because I have some Dramione plot bunnies driving me nuts...**

**Please forgive any typos – I wanted to hurry and post – it has been way too long since my last post!**

"Hermione."

"Fred."

"Thank you."

"What for?" Hermione sat at her new desk in the office of the shop, tallying the first day's sales. Percy would be by in the morning to make the official recordings in their books, but Hermione couldn't wait that long.

The grand opening had been a great success with old friends and new customers flooding the aisles from the moment Hermione and George opened the doors until nearly midnight. Ron, Ginny, and Harry showed up around dinnertime with a feast's worth of treats from Molly and, when Dean Thomas and Lee Jordon followed with six cases of butterbeer, lilywine, and firewhiskey, the grand opening quickly became a grand party. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had seen her friends so happy. Something about the bright decorations, the whizzing toys, and the glimmering fireworks made everyone's hearts a little lighter – and fortunately, it appeared it made their wallets equally lighter. Their first day's sales doubled Hermione's most hopeful of predictions. It seemed like the shop was exactly what Diagon Alley needed.

Hermione turned away from her accounting books to look at Fred and repeated, "What for?"

"For helping George get back onto his feet. Today was really great. I haven't seen him smile this many times in a row since before the war!" Fred floated merrily above a shelf of puking pastels and sneezing sugarplums (a new and widely popular treat – Hermione was a little worried about the addictive qualities of a good sneeze and was tempted to prohibit George from making more until the medical implications could be further examined).

"I didn't do this for George."

"Then thank you for doing this for me." Fred smiled gently down at Hermione, gratitude practically wisping away from his less than corporeal form.

"I didn't do this for you either," Hermione sighed. "I had only completely selfish reasons for getting involved with the two of you."

"And those reasons are?" Hermione pushed away from the desk and rocked back so that she could stretch her legs. She had kept a clear head throughout the party but kept a bottle of lilywine for once the doors were closed for the night. The bottle of the semi-sweet white wine, an old recipe allegedly created by fairies, sat on the desk nearly empty. She knew she'd regret the choice in the morning when she'd have to get up to open the shop for another busy day, but at the moment the alcohol happily buzzed through her system, relaxing her.

"To help me get back onto my feet. I had an amazing time abroad but it was all a façade. I wasn't finding myself as much as I was trying to lose myself." With her inhibitions low, Hermione was finally admitting to herself, and out loud, that the shop and this save-George project were really about saving herself.

"And did you get lost?"

"The funny thing about being lost is it is an all or nothing thing. You are either lost or you're found. I was already lost, so I guess I was really looking for a way to be found." She shrugged her shoulders up and down and swiveled her head back and forth, trying to loosen some of the tension that had taken root. As the exhilaration of success began to wear off, Hermione was quickly realizing George and she would need to hire some assistants to help run the shop.

"And were you found?"

"No, but that's ok. I came back to London and it felt right."

"Maybe George found you when you were finding him?"

"Hmm, I suppose that's probably right. We've made a great team these past few months. Quite a spectacular job so far."

"More than spectacular – Today was the greatest last day ever."

"Last day?" Hermione looked up at Fred sharply, worry clouding her face. Fred smiled sadly and floated down to just above her desk.

"I've been spending too much time with you. Living vicariously through you and George. Can't be healthy... Not that I have much to worry about there." He chuckled but Hermione remained silent. She had a feeling this was coming but she wasn't ready to face it just yet.

"No, not too much... well, maybe. I've been reading-"

"Surprise?"

"Shut up. I've been reading about the origins of ghosts and, well, it isn't all good news."

"What did you find?" Fred anxiously began floating around the room.

"You've been lucky but I read that spirits that aren't ready to move on will stick around too close to their old homes. They arrive back on Earth too soon, even for ghosts."

"But Professor Binns died and immediately became a ghost. He's still teaching and seems alright."

Hermione took another sip of her wine before continuing. She had been dreading this conversation since she had finished her research. "I asked your mom about Professor Binns. It turns out that the story about him dying by the fire and then just getting up to teach was mostly a myth. Your mom didn't even remember him as a teacher – either dead or alive. It turns out most ghosts go to the other side, or wherever it is they go, and take fifty or even a hundred years to reform as a ghost. It takes a lot of leftover business for a spirit to will its way back to Earth. Or, at least, that's the reigning theory. It matches what Sir Nicholas said when I talked to him. It explains why he was so surprised you could communicate with me. I think he spent quite sometime 'reforming'..."

"What does this mean for me?"

"I worry that coming back so quickly may prevent you from moving on. You're too attached to this life. I think it could drive you insane if you keep watching over us. My theory is that ghosts that come back because of unfinished business or whatever use their time back on Earth to find closure through service. It is ironic that ghosts are seen as monsters in muggle culture. Ghosts are actually usually protectors – like those at Hogwarts. They use their second chance here to find closure by protecting something – a family home, a favorite place, a school. Their energy feeds the wards around Hogwarts, and their wisdom helps guides children through adolescence. It is a generally positive experience for the ghost and, when they are ready, they take that good energy with them as closure for whatever they couldn't finish while alive. It is quite fascinating from a psychological perspective..." Hermione slightly wandered off in her wine-muddled thoughts. Fred would have laughed if he wasn't so confused.

"But what does this mean for me?"

"Well, the terrible irony is that ghosts that return too quickly try to stay attached to their actual lives and families. Fifty or a hundred years may not seem like a long time, but it's enough distance to help with the closure process. Without that process, I worry you may slowly lose sense of life and death." Hermione shifted in her seat uncomfortably. It was clear that she was beating around the proverbial bush.

"Hermione. What. Does. That. Mean?"

"You might go crazy and turn poltergeist – and not the Peeves kind – the real, scary haunting spirit kind." Fred sunk to the floor with his hands in his head. He had heard of less than friendly spirits attacking people in the homes or places they haunted. Easily confused with ghosts, these types of poltergeists weren't rational. They had lost their sanity and didn't communicate with the living. They created negative energy and required exorcisms.

"I don't understand. My love for my brother might drive me crazy?"

"Possibly. I can see why. It must be hard watching him live the life you were supposed to live together. What if he meets a woman and falls in love and has children and a successful business. All of the things you would have also wanted. Seeing that, even with good intentions and a heart full of love, could drive anyone crazy."

"So you're saying I need to leave before I become a negative evil bastard?"

Hermione held her head in hands and slight nodded in the affirmative. This was not the cheerful way she wanted to end her day but she knew she had been putting this off for too long. Fred had to leave before it became too much for both of them. If he stayed any longer, she might not be able to convince him to leave when it became critical. Tears gently glided down her face as she looked into Fred's sad eyes.

"I had a feeling you were going to say something like this. I could just, you know, sense it. I've been so happy lately but its quietly killing me, again, to watch George struggle and to see him try to move on."

"I love you Fred. You're an amazing brother and friend."

"You too Hermione. Promise me something."

"Anything."

"Don't tell George about me. Ever. It would kill him if he knew that I was here but he couldn't talk to me. He'd never forgive you for not being the middleman." Hermione nodded in silent agreement. She had realized this same thing much earlier.

"Was I wrong not to be the middleman? Should I have told him from the start?"

"No. I'm glad you didn't. It would have made this impossible and he would have never moved on. Plus he wouldn't have really gotten to know you. He'd have just talked to me through you and that would have been tragic. You're perfect for him, Hermione. I'm done talking around it. You two are meant to be more than business partners." Hermione's eyes went wide and she quickly shook her head 'no'. In her head, Hermione was fervently disagreeing – 'perfect. No. we're just friends. That's all – right? I don't feel more for him than that. Do I?' But then she thought back to their shared laughs and sweet moments. Her hear began to sting just a bit. It was the early warning that she might already be over her head without having even realized it.

"Fred. You're silly. That's – well – not possible. We're only friends."

"One more promise then."

"Hm?"

"Don't close yourself up to the possibility. Just give it a shot if the time comes and it feels right – especially if he ever grows a pair and asks you out."

Hermione laughed and threw a stuffed unicorn at Fred. It went right through him and landed with a thud on a pile of boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. As she bent down to pick up jellybeans that had scattered everywhere, Hermione felt a sudden loss. She looked up quickly and realized she was completely alone. Sadness descended on her and she suddenly couldn't sit in the office any longer. Running through the shop and into her and George's apartment, Hermione felt the need to escape. Maybe to run again.

Suddenly hitting a wall of George, Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Almost falling, she grabbed at anything in reach, ending up with a fistful of George's work shirt. George pulled her back and straightened her back onto her feet. Seeing the tears running down her face, George quickly grabbed her close to him and began gently rubbing her back. Without a clue as to why she was so upset, George stood there with her in his arms for a full five minutes before asking, "What's wrong?"

"I miss them. All of them. Today was perfect but that doesn't erase the fact that Fred wasn't here. Or Tonks or Lupin or even Moody!" She sobbed into his shirt, unable to stop herself from becoming hysterical.

Unsure of what to do, George guided them both to the couch and accio'd the two cups of tea he had just finished preparing. They sat on the coffee table untouched until they went cold.

He held her close as she uncontrollably cried. Draping a blanket over them, George couldn't do anything more than rub circles on her back and tell her it would be ok.

And, even with a sobbing witch in his arms, it was the first time in months that George truly felt like things were going to be ok.


	15. The Next Morning

Chapter 14: The Next Morning

**A/N: Trying to get better about updating! I'm on break again so I want to see if I can wrap up this story. It's taken on its own life so I have no idea how much longer it'll be, but I'm thinking two more chapters, and then I'm going to do a heavy edit. Sorry for typos and all that – I don't have a beta, and I really enjoy getting chapters published as soon as I write them. Once I'm done, I think I'm going to combine quite a few chapters and flesh out a few side stories that have been tickling the back of my brain. **

**Also – Thank you to everyone that has this story on alert! It makes my day to see that people are reading and really want to know what happens next. Reviews are always appreciated too!**

* * *

Waking up the next morning curled up on the couch together, Hermione looked at George's sleeping form with confusion. As usual after a long night, all of the emotions came back to her in an instant. She felt the air sucked out of her lungs for a moment but, as George's eyes began to flutter open, she regained control of her head and her breathing. With all of the emotions swirling around inside her, she couldn't help but feel a little warmth from the look George gave her immediately upon opening his eyes. It was a look of concern and caring. Slightly rumpled, his hair stuck out on one side and the imprint of the couch fabric marked his otherwise perfect face. She felt a bit of a tingle at the realization that George was handsome. Incredibly handsome. Even first thing in the morning.

Knowing it was unlikely that she was as attractive after a night of exhausting crying, Hermione self-consciously patted her wild curls down and tried to look away. George, however, wasn't going to let that happen. He pulled her close again and whispered, "How are you feeling today? Better?"

He rubbed her back again and she nodded into his shirt, thankful for the chance to regain her composure as tears threatened to flood her eyes again. After a few moments of waking up and gathering their wits, George let go and shifted to get up. Stretching and yawning, he mumbled, "How about some breakfast? I haven't made omelets in ages and today is going to be another busy day."

"Omelets?" Hermione followed George into the kitchen and gratefully noticed he was setting the kettle on for tea.

"Yes, omelets. As in eggs acting like pancakes, stuffed with goodies." George turned and smirked at her. He set about rummaging through the kitchen for all of the necessary supplies. Hermione appreciated how he approached the task with such order and deliberation. When he decided on making breakfast, amidst her confusion, Hermione also suspected she would have a lot of cleaning to do afterwards, but she was yet again being pleasantly surprised.

Hermione touched George's arm to stop him in the middle of scrambling eggs and asked, "You're not going to ask me why I was crying last night?"

"Sometimes you just need someone to cry with and not to talk with. I get it." George knew he had hit it on the head when he received a hesitant but grateful smile. It reminded him of why he worked so hard in the shop. Hermione's smile could make any man weak in the knees, and this rumpled, tear stained mess of a smile immediately heated George to the core.

The moment passed with a quiet, "Thanks."

"Anytime," George replied as he went back to the eggs.

Hermione moved to take over the tea preparation while George started gathering more ingredients from the fridge. Since moving in together, Hermione had always been the one to cook and was curious about George's skills. Although he had lived with his brother for sometime before the war, she wouldn't have been surprised if they ordered out every lunch and went home every dinner. Molly's cooking was rather addictive.

Their morning continued on in silence until George nearly choked to death on a mushroom. George had realized something and the shock of his realization startled both of them. He quietly muttered under his breath, "Weasley charm." After clearing his throat and settling back down, George looked Hermione straight in the eyes with a mischievous twinkle that she had not seen nearly enough of since the war.

"Yes, George? Are you ok?" His gaze made her shift in her seat uneasily. It was yet another reminder of how wonderfully handsome George could be.

"Let's get dinner tonight. We'll put someone else in charge at the shop and go out for a proper evening out." Whatever Hermione thought George was going to say was not this, and her body immediately relaxed. Dinner out was not exactly a life changing proposition.

"Sure. Sounds good. Should we see if Harry or Ron or anyone else is free?"

"No. Just you and me. Perhaps even like a date."

"Like a date?"

"Yes. A date. Where a person takes out another person they fancy to try to woo them. Seriously, Granger, has spending the night in my arms rattled your brains?" George chuckled as Hermione sat there unable to respond. He shot her another smirk and gathered the dishes. George walked out of sight and into the kitchen before shouting, "'Mione, I'm going to head to the shop and open up. I forgot to mention last night, but Harry sent you an owl asking to meet up today. I'll make reservations for around 7:00 tonight. Wear something fancy. I think I want to go dancing." With that, George quietly disappeared and left Hermione to freak out (and giggle girly) alone.

* * *

Hermione stumbled out of Harry's floo and landed with a solid thump. Harry and Ron had been living together for ages by this point, but apartment looked rather empty and unused. Hermione shouted for Harry and was surprised to find him in the office/library.

"Are you doing actual bookwork? Harry Potter, I don't think I've ever been so proud!" Hermione laughed and settled herself into an overstuff recliner that, if you were Harry or Dumbledore, suspiciously looked liked a former professor. The entire office matched Hermione's seat, with light and dark blue striped curtains and a plush deep blue carpet. The cream color walls made it a warm and inviting place to study. The overall feel of the room starkly contrasted the rest of the apartment.

"I see that in the six months that you two have been living here, you've managed to decorate one room. Work keeping you busy?"

Harry stacked his papers and nearly tucked them into a file on his desk. Hermione couldn't help but be surprised at Harry's work ethic. A year and a half of being an auror had given him the chance to mature a bit. More importantly, it gave him stability and a chance to be a follower instead of a leader. Harry knew he was being groomed to be Department Head sometime in his future, but until then, he was able to just receive his orders and go. All of the planning was done by more senior aurors, and most of the paperwork was done by Harry. It was a nice change of pace.

Harry turned and grabbed Hermione in a tight, lift-you-off-the-ground hug. "We don't see nearly enough of each other, 'Mione."

"I know. I've been so busy with the shop, but we've finally got some extra help for the Halloween season so hopefully I'll get a little more downtime. Lee's our newest addition, and it's clear that he loves the shop nearly as much as George and I do."

"I never thought you'd end up working with George. The shop is looking great, though. I popped in the other day and had a nice chat with Percy. It's great to see the Weasley family back in order."

"Agreed. Everyone seems to be healing. I've heard a rumor that Bill and Fleur are expecting a baby due in late-April. They haven't told Molly yet, but she is going to be over the moon!"

"That's great news and now if you and George will finally come out as a couple to the family, everyone will have paired off except Charlie."

"George and me. A couple? Everyone? Percy?" Hermione stuttered, turning red. Harry laughed at his friend trying miserably to pretend she wasn't in love with her business partner. The whole family knew it was a matter of months before the two of them realized what was right in front of their eyes.

"Yes, even Percy, but don't tell him you know. He's bringing Alicia Spinnet to Sunday dinner this week. Ron and Luna are even getting a bit serious. I don't know if I'll ever understand how they work, but I think it is because of her recent interest in the magical components of food. Ron told me the other day that none of what she's cooked has had any magical effect on him, but he's enjoying the opportunity to taste-test it all." Hermione and Harry laughed in unison and moved to sit together on the office's loveseat. Hermione curled up under Harry's arm and felt a great sense of peace. All of her friends were slowly moving on from the war. She knew that most of these early relationships would either end in break ups or babies (as post-war relationships often do), but she was glad to know everyone was giving it a shot. Even Harry and Ginny were getting more serious. All that was left was her, George, and Charlie.

"He asked me out for dinner and dancing tonight."

"Hmm?"

"George. He asked me out on a real date. Harry, I don't know if I can do this. He's amazing, but what if I screw it up? What if I run again? Our friendship and the shop are too important to take these kinds of risks." Hermione buried her head into Harry's chest as he played with her hair. Harry wanted to laugh and shake her all at the same time. It frustrated him to no end that Hermione couldn't see how perfect George was for her and vice versa.

"Hermione, love, we fought a war so we could keep on living. It is time for you to get back to living. Your friendship will survive anything. There's no way to undo the bond that you two have from grieving together these past six months. Even better, you make a great team so hopefully you'll make a great couple, but if the date goes poorly, laugh it off and agree to be just friends. You and Ron made it through your attempt – I'm sure you and George could do the same."

"Mr. Harry Potter. Stop growing up. I don't know if I can handle it." Hermione looked up at him and smiled. She placed a small kiss on his cheek and they settled back into the couch. Staying like that for hours, Hermione and Harry enjoyed the chance to catch up and to reconnect. Things had been a bit strained since she returned from her trip and because she had thrown herself so completely into the joke shop. It was practically the first time they had time to talk alone, which was great, but it also meant that Hermione didn't look at her watch until it was 6:00.

"Merlin's pants! I've got to go. I'm supposed to be dressed and all that by 7. Harry, I don't even know if I own a proper date-night dress. Seriously, I've got work clothes and my summer dresses, but nothing appropriate for October or for a date." Harry just chuckled and led her into his room where Ginny had left behind quite a few date-night outfits.

"Don't worry, I've had them cleaned. She won't mind. Take your pick."

Hermione quickly ruffled through the handful of dresses in Harry's closet before settling on a simple grey dress. With boots, a coat, and some basic jewelry, Hermione knew she could be ready fairly quickly. Thanking Harry, she quickly floo'd home to begin attacking her hair.

It wasn't until 6:55 when Hermione put on the dress and realized it was significantly tighter than her usual flowing dresses. At 20 years of age, Hermione had begun to gain a little weight. No longer the stick-thin and slightly gangly girl she was at Hogwarts, Hermione was becoming (as she joked in her head) baby-making-ready which meant her hips, thighs, and chest has all rounded out a bit. Nowhere near unhealthy, Hermione had discovered a curvier version of herself over the past year and appreciated the change (while also fretting about any future growth – as all women do). She hadn't had time to shop recently so most of her clothes were fairly loose fitting travel gear that she bought off the rack without much thought. Putting on a real designer dress, made for a woman with her kind of curves, was rather enlightening. To say the least, she looked fantastic but didn't quite yet know it.

Without any alternatives, Hermione grabbed a coat that she hoped would hide how form-fitting the dress was and ran downstairs in time to catch George walk through the front door. His jaw dropped as he took his first look at his slightly shy, slightly windblown, date, but his expression quickly changed to a full, lit-up smile. Regardless of how terrified he was of this date, seeing her all dressed up for him sealed the decision. George was going to regain his Weasley charm and was going to properly, and totally, woo Ms. Hermione Granger.


End file.
